Two Wheels. One Dark Lord.

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On a Saturday

Yesterday the Tour started and I rode my road bike. Today the Cream Puff goes down. And I’ll be nowhere near it.

First up, The Tour. I wasn’t too excited about last year’s race when they kicked my man Jan to the curb. And then when Floyd clawed his way back, I thought I had found something to believe in again. Of course, we all know how that worked out.

Badly.

This year, I could give a rat’s ass. Hoo-ahhh whatever. But, you know where I found myself first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee? That’s right, on the sofa in front of the television.

I just can’t help myself.

Cancella stormed it. Guy was pounding it right out of the gate. Impressive. Even if anything CSC does is suspect, at least to me.

The Monsoon rains came again mid-day, and I sat in my garage working on bikes as water fell out of the sky. After, what, two weeks of it being 90 every day, a nice rainy afternoon was quite nice. Eventually I pulled my head out of my ass and got out on the bike. Lovedog helped with that.

We went out Lake Mary to the turn for Ashurst Lake. The road to Ashurst was closed off by the Forest Service as the recent Monsoon thunderstorms bring lightening with them as well as rain, and lightening starts fires. Apparently several fires.

Hopefully all that’s under control.

As always, the ride back is harder than the ride out. I suppose the headwind didn’t help matters. It only got weird for me when I got tailed off slightly on the same climb where I got bit last August. First time I’ve ridden that stretch of roadway on a proper bike ride, and I backed off a bit and soaked it all in. The guardrail where my broken bike is leaning in the Police photos. The bike lane where I was riding. The feel of the place. I couldn’t tell anymore where the skid marks that into the bike lane used to be, they’ve worn off. For the better, I suppose.

I don’t remember anything from the accident; no screech of tires, no jarring impact, no coming to a rest in a heap on the side of the road. A bit spooky, to be honest. But probably better in the end. I don’t really need to remember any of that. I just need to remember today.

It’s a straight stretch of roadway, no curves, nowhere to hide. Pine trees along the sides. Uphill, but not terribly uphill. The fit can take it in a very large gear. The un-fit (read: me) can manage 39 by mid cassette. The thing that struck me as truck came by and I involuntarily winched, there is absolutely no reason at all that a cyclist would be in any danger here.

Life is like that, ain’t it? Shit just happens for no damn reason.

I was glad to pedal through that spot again, that place in the world, that place in my memory. I had to face it sometime.

Fuck it. I own that hill.

Today is the Cascade Cream Puff up in Oregon. My man Kevin is doing it again. He keeps going back year after year.

Last year he went in a little heavy. Like several pounds heavy.

Good looking jersey you got there, player

When he got back from that “I’m a fat ass and that sucked” episode, he told his co-workers to never let him race in that condition again. Like it’s their fault, right? Yo, the fork, the fridge, your mouth, you know what I’m saying?

About big jonny

The man, the legend. The guy who started it all back in the Year of Our Lord Beer, 2000, with a couple of pages worth of idiotic ranting hardcoded on some random porn site that would host anything you uploaded, a book called HTML for Dummies (which was completely appropriate), a bad attitude (which hasn’t much changed), and a Dell desktop running Win95 with 64 mgs of ram and a six gig hard drive. Those were the days. Then he went to law school. Go figure.
Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

Hey, it’s your friend’s fault for not bringing gears to the race. I saw him there on Sunday, started a few people in front of me, i’m sure he finished a few hours in front of me too. I hope he had the clarity to bring gears this year.